Suicide and Me: A Painful Confession

Overwhelmingly, the last year has left me questioning where I fit in and what kind of purpose I have. With each new hurt I stepped further and further away from nearly everyone I knew. I also stepped further and further away from myself.

I stopped caring if I lived or died. Then, I stopped caring if I lived. Then, I wanted very much to die. I welcomed thoughts of suicide like old friends. We haven’t spoken in years, but nothing ever really changes between us. We’ve known each other so long, that it never seems to matter where we left off.

In January, I had Charity take me to the hospital. All of me was tired and done living. I couldn’t get out of bed. I missed work. Things were spiraling. They told me at the ER that I wasn’t acute enough to be placed in an inpatient treatment. They told me that because I didn’t actively have a plan and hadn’t attempted suicide they could do nothing for me.

Still I laugh at the word, “plan”. I’ve never needed one. Suicide to me has always been a struggle to not embrace the weapon of the moment. I’ve always felt that the danger was more in the every day. Running my truck off the road, taking all of my medications at once, finding a major artery; the how was never the hard part. There are a million ways to kill yourself. Just look at the very dark work of The Bunny Suicides, by Andy Riley.

A hospital told me I wasn’t acute enough for treatment and an outpatient therapy clinic told me my needs were beyond their scope. I felt unwelcome to find help and been made to believe that I don’t deserve it.

In February, I laid in the dark of my room and told God that I was finished. I told Him that I was ready to go. I felt as if I’d done enough, suffered enough, and failed enough.

In the last year I’ve been ignored, called a liar, been told I’m toxic, been abandoned, and lost friends and family; I’ve been made a fool. In the dark then and in the dark of my heart now, it is easy to believe that if I am half of what has been said of me that I’ve forsaken a spot on Earth. That idea grew into an inescapable reality. It has been chasing me and even when I get back up it threatens to knock me down again.

This isn’t a then and now kind of post. This is a now and now kind of post.

I’ve had to find creative ways to stave off dark thoughts. I even asked in a Facebook post if anyone would be willing to share pleasant memories of me. I remind myself that my mother didn’t have me for twenty three years, so she needs at least that many with me now. I tell myself that Charity doesn’t need to either find me or figure out what to do with my stuff. I remember how needy and worthless my dog, Shy, gets when I’m gone for a few hours and think of what it would be like for him if I never came home one day. I’ve begun therapy at my own expense, I take my medications faithfully and as directed, I go in for medical tests as needed. I’ve even been torturing myself with cardio. I’m doing all the things that you’re supposed to do. I should know, I fucking write about it.

But somehow this idea that I’m actually horrid, keeps after me. It keeps hounding me. It keeps me up at night. It beats my self-esteem into the ground and leaves it there whimpering until it dares to peek up from the dirt for a moment. It makes me second guess myself and everyone around me.

Because when something massive happens, like the end of a marriage, this beast that lives in the dark of my heart likes to just use all the hurt to prove its points:

Nothing you do is good enough.

You will never be acceptable.

You will never be lovable.

You will never be anything good.

You will always end up alone.

I told you so.

These lies now feel as if they have a body of evidence to prove them right and if they weren’t the truth, why would there be proof? As backwards and easily refutable as the proof is, it still feels real because I know that it’s true in the hearts of people who used to think otherwise.

Everything I can do to shut up the beast, I try my hardest to do. Sometimes I fail. But the stakes are too high. Suicide moved into my heart when I was a very little girl and I tried to kill myself. It never moved out. When I began cutting at age thirteen, I knew that I was taking my life into my own hands. Every time after the first time I knew it too. One occasion, I even hoped to die from it. When I was alone in Missouri last fall Charity asked me how I was feeling and I said, “Like I want to drive my car off a bridge”. She told me she was worried, because she knew that deep down I wasn’t joking. I wasn’t joking, not even at the surface.

For almost twenty years I have battled back and forth with thoughts and actions of suicide. Remembering that it doesn’t go away, is what I would ask you to do for anyone who has ever struggled with suicide. It never goes away. It gets quieter, it shuts up for a minute, but it never ever goes away. Be patient with us. Don’t just be patient now. But be patient and vigilant always.

There is no before and after, then and now. When the lights go out, there is always the dark. Please remember to recognize the darkness and be a light. Please. You could save someone’s life. Mine has been saved more times than I can count and yet the beast is still there, waiting.

6 Comments

I still care and I would miss my tea partner..What I can do is pray and cry for your pain.But under no way, leave this world, for you are worth love, caring, and understanding, Cathy.

Cathy Terranova
on June 19, 2017 at 4:40 pm

Thank you so much, Maria. You have always seen a light in me. Ever since I was little and wanted to watch the same little critters special over and over again at your house or have tea parties or have you chase me into your kitchen. Thank you for being one of the first to show me love.

Kathryn Cleveland
on June 8, 2017 at 8:26 pm

Ouch- my heart aches and I wish I could sit with you and rub your feet and laugh at your jokes and drink hot tea and love you to betterness. I’m sending Jesus because he’s really good at most of those things except the hot tea. You are an amazing young woman who has sloughed through so much- I’m not even going to say “overcome”- nobody overcomes. If we could go over or under or around….we would. But the way through is the way in, the way deep is the way through, the way home is one step at a time. I love you. Mama K

Cathy Terranova
on June 19, 2017 at 4:38 pm

I love you too Kathy. I’m already looking forward to my visit, whenever it is.
I’ll be seeing Sheryl Shamer soon, so the hot tea will be covered in your absence.

Cheryl Tyler
on June 10, 2017 at 4:49 pm

Sweet girl – I have not been in your place, but I know all the darkness is lying to you. I have heard multiple speakers who had been on the edge. Just when they were closest and everything was at a pitch black, they managed to hang on for just a little while longer. Then whatever had them in a stranglehold broke and life turned around. And they were so grateful that they made it just that little bit longer.

The TRUTH is that God does love you and has plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. The TRUTH is that you are the apple of His eye. And he smiles every time He looks at you. Which is all the time. The TRUTH is that you are loved and cherished more than you can imagine.